Humming blood
by Selec
Summary: Stark's blood hums to him, a strange, bitter-sweet tune. Loki did not understand and thus, tried to ignore it, he really did. But that's as long as he is able to when his own blood starts to hum in response... Damn, how much he hates his Jotun-blood. [post-Avengers, Tony/Loki]


**Title**: Humming blood

**Pairing:** Tony/Loki; others.

**Rating:** M (to be safe)

**Warnings:** Slash, I'll take some liberties with North myths, mentions of Mpreg (not sure, if it'll be an active part of the plot) - anything else will be added.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except the idea and concept of the story.

**A/N:** My very first fic for this fandom ;) I'll warn you beforehand that updates won't be regular (though, as compensation, the chapters will be long). But I couldn't resist to post this now - and see, whether anyone will be interested in reading more :) And right now, this fanfiction is an experiment for myself since the idea might not be that new (I think?) but I'll try to make the best out of it.

* * *

**Humming blood**.

* * *

**1. The bond**

'_At first, it might not be noticeable, just a cool breeze grazing your subconscious. But as time wears off, the humming becomes more persistent – until your own blood hums the same tune in response._'

* * *

_Red. White. Hot_.

Pain. Searing, agonizing pain.

He could feel his blood pulsating through his veins, rushing so fast that it heated more with each passing second, _burning_. Every breath that filled his lungs set his raging blood afire, again and again. He was _inhaling_ fire.

Torture wasn't unfamiliar to him, and neither was the agonizing pain it brought with it. He had endured unbearable wounds, before. Had been on the brim of death on many occasions. His whole life consisted of never-ending agony, physical just as much as mental.

But never, _never_ in the millennia he had floated through existence, had he experienced something even remotely akin to _this_.

Everything inside of him was on fire, burning to ashes and smoke. He could even _smell_ it, the biting smoke hurting his sensitive nose. His head throbbed undeviatingly as if it was mere moments away from bursting open.

Yet, the worst of it all, the one thing that made this beyond all bearing was – his magic. Or the _lack_ of it.

Whenever he got injured in the past, however serious the injury, the soothing cool of his magic made it tolerable. Even if he couldn't heal himself straight away or his magic was bound somehow, his magic always pulsated through his insides, his veins – even the littlest of amounts of it were palpable.

Though, now when his subconscious reached out for the familiar sensation, his whole being craved the coldness of his magic, there was nothing. He knew it was still there, he could feel it faintly, but he couldn't touch it as if it was locked behind a secure door, all strings binding it to him cut off and the key thrown far away.

Instead, when he tried to call for it to soothe this burning, he heard… whispering. No, it sounded different… and it got louder the more aware he was of his blood heating. There were no words, yet it sounded like a voice… and at the same time not.

"…open! What is…"

A tune? Was it that? But it wasn't a song, no one was singing.

"…don't know. He's not…"

_What_? He blinked, tried to open his eyes, but his lids didn't obey. The darkness remained, and with it the intense pain. But he had… there had been a flicker! Something flickered through the eternal darkness, something bright.

"…brother! Do…"

Red. And yellow. Bands of red and yellow flickered in front of him, twisting around each other, a strange dance. They emitted a comfortable cool – he reached for them, wanted to grasp them. But they were so far…

"…doing our best. He… son, not only…"

Somehow, there was a familiarity he felt with these bands. He knew the colors, he had seen them in that combination.

"…Midgard, but… was better…"

Midgard. Earth. Red and yellow. Yes, that was it. That was what he was reaching for… Why couldn't he touch it?

"…he need? Mother… brother, what… need?"

The longer he stared at the display of dancing colors, barely ignoring the agony that consumed his body and soul, he saw it. A face. Or was it simply his imagination?

It was of no importance because he _knew_… He remembered why those colors seemed familiar. Knew who that face belonged to. And with the realization, his blood rushed even faster, the whispers grew louder and louder.

No, it was humming. A tune. A…

"S-Sta-rk…"

…name?

* * *

"His condition worsens with each passing day."

Thor forced himself to avert his eyes from his brother's deathly pale and thin form, and looked up at his mother, who was carefully wiping the sweat from Loki's forehead with a damp cloth. Her eyebrows were furrowed in deep concentration, great concern lingered in her tired features.

Despite her age, Frigga had always seemed young and full of age, but right now she looked so _old_. It scared Thor more than he would ever admit.

"Why can't you or any of the healers help him?"

The moment the words had left his mouth, Thor winced. Why did he ask this question every time he sat in this room? The answer never changed, so why did he bother?

Loki had seemed to be ill during his imprisonment in Asgard, yet never as much as it would have required a healer to look after him. When he thought about it, he could swear that his brother had been unusually pale when they left Midgard, too. But… he hadn't _noticed_. No one had noticed how serious Loki's condition actually was – and Loki had, apparently, done everything to hide his weakness behind a veil of bitterness and hatred.

Nearly three weeks ago, Thor had visited Loki again. Before that, he had kept his distance since the last time he went to Loki's cell and tried to talk hadn't gone too well. He believed his brother needed more time, believed the longer he was to remain in that cell he would come to his senses. Or at least, manage a civil conversation with him.

Never could he have envisioned the sight that greeted him upon entering Loki's prison. His heart still ached with agony when he remembered that moment.

At first, he had been sure Loki was dead – oh, what unbearably painful heartbeats that had been. Though, the realization that his brother was still alive did nothing to lessen the stinging pain in his chest. Not in the least.

He remembered that he couldn't breathe, the lump in his throat hindering air from entering his lungs, especially when he had had Loki in his arms and called for him. _Begged_ him to open his eyes, even though he had feared to suffocate on his own words. For centuries, Loki hadn't looked so… _small_, like a child that was too fragile for the strong hold of someone as bulky as Thor.

When the first whimper of pain had left Loki's blue lips, Thor had immediately retreated from him, scared to have hurt him even more.

Minutes later, he had let the healers take his brother, however reluctant.

Though, beneath that fog of fear and panic had been a spark of sizzling anger. Why had no one bothered to inform him or his parents of Loki's state? What were the guards doing?

He still didn't know since his father had handled the guards – and to be honest, he was more concerned for Loki's well-being than anything else.

"Because it is not his body that requires healing," his mother whispered softly. "But there might be someone who can help him."

Thor blinked, trying to push those horrid thoughts aside, and as his mind registered his mother's words, he instantly jumped onto his feet, warm hope stirring in his chest. "Who?"

Frigga let the cloth rest on Loki's forehead and straightened, facing Thor, her usually warm eyes hard with concern. "He mumbles sometimes in his feverish state. As if he is calling for someone – I never understood what he says. That was until our last conversation, when he stirred, he…"

"Yes?" Thor asked curiously, slightly put off by her hesitance. She never hesitated to express what was on her mind.

She sighed heavily, looking even more tired than before. "Stark. He always says Stark."

_What_? "Anthony Stark? The Man of Iron?"

"I believe so," Frigga said.

Thor frowned, confusion marring his exhausted features. "I do not understand, mother. What has my friend from Midgard to do with Loki's situation? Why does Loki call for him?"

Frigga sat down on the edge of the bed next to Loki's left shoulder, her fingers finding their way into Loki's dark hair. "There is much I, too, do not understand for Loki is a Jotun and our knowledge of Jotenheim is but restricted."

"Are you saying that his Jotun blood made him this ill?" Thor asked slowly, still confused.

"I have done much research in these past days," Frigga whispered as if afraid to speak too loudly, "And I have come upon something very interesting. It is but a mere surmise, but the symptoms fit." She paused, momentarily lost in her own thoughts, and Thor withstood the urge to pry further, waiting with a patience he seldom possessed. "A Jotun is able to form a special bond – a connection to another being, who is _made_ for them, according to some of their oldest stories. Being apart from your bonded one for a greater amount of time causes…" She didn't finish, just stared at Loki's unmoving form and Thor understood.

_A bond_? Thor's gaze flickered towards his younger brother, his stomach churning sickeningly. A bond had done this to Loki? "Then… can't we break it?"

Frigga shook her head, squelching what little hope had surfaced in Thor. "This bond connects their existences to each other's, Thor. You can't break it, unless you kill one of them – and then, the other will find his demise in insanity."

Thor felt sick. That, obviously, was no option. "But what should we do? We have to help him!"

"Anthony Stark." Frigga looked up, her eyes staring intently at him. "I believe he is the one Loki has bonded to."

"I don't…" He furrowed his brows, irritated. "Loki and Anthony do not like each other. They did not get along – how could they have bounded?"

"It just happens," his mother said, the hint of despair coloring her soft voice. "When a Jotun meets the one made for him, he subconsciously forms a bond – how, I do not know. Some recognize it immediately, some do not. And Loki… he had no knowledge of something akin to this even existing – how could he have recognized his bond with Anthony Stark?"

When they first meet? But his mother had said that the longer they were apart… "But – they first met a long time ago!" Two years? Yes, around that time.

Frigga's lips turned into a sad smile. "No wonder his condition is this bad. I fear that returning with him from Midgard only made it worse."

_No_. He swallowed, willing his voice to stay steady. "What can we do?"

"If I am right," Frigga said quietly, "it will help him to be near Anthony. Small touches would be even better."

A simple solution, but his human friends were not very fond of Loki, to put it mildly. Would they help Loki? Would Anthony help?

"Mother," he spoke as a thought occurred to him, "should Anthony not be equally affected by this bond? Yet, he was healthy when I last visited Midgard, a few days ago."

"He is mortal," Frigga mused, "As much as I understand, only Jotun are affected like this by their bond. If a Jotun binds to another Jotun, they are equally affected, but if he binds to another being, they are not. At least not this strong."

Thor nodded slowly. "This bond – is it for… mates?" It sounded very much like it, yet he needed confirmation. Certainty.

"Yes." His mother's answer was so soft, he nearly missed it. But then, he wished he had for it could have been bliss to remain ignorant.

"Friend Stark has already a mate." The Lady Pepper's kind face appeared in front of him, his chest clenching painfully.

For a moment, they were both silent. Then, still whispering, Frigga said with a bitter twitch of her lips, "Happiness is something the Norns never granted my sweet boy."

Sighing tiredly, Thor, too, sat down on the bed, watching Loki's face that even in unconsciousness contorted into a painful grimace. "How much time do we have?"

He could see his mother stiffen slightly. "Not much, I fear. He has been away from what he needs the most for far too long – his body started to destroy itself long before he himself even noticed."

Thor had thought as much. Tentatively, he reached for a limp hand, seeking comfort in the still somewhat warm skin. It wasn't cold, yet. And that was as much comfort as he needed for now. "I will take him to Midgard and ask the Man of Iron for help." Even beg, if he had to. "But what about father?" Did he know?

Frigga laid her own, smaller hand over Thor's and with that, over Loki's. "I told him last night. We will inform the council later, though I think it better for you to depart as soon as possible. We cannot wait for the council to make their decision for our time is running ahead of us." She paused, hard lines visible around her mouth. "I doubt they will be displeased. After all, Loki is entering another prison."

_Probably_. "Then I will prepare for my departure."

"Thor." He stilled, stopping in his motion to withdraw his hand. When he looked at his mother, his heart became heavier with the slight glimmer of fear in her eyes. "I know Loki did the Midgardians wrong. But – is Anthony Stark a good man?"

Loki had, indeed, done them wrong, on more than one occasion. They hated him, Thor knew, and it wouldn't be easy to convince Stark to help, nor was it just to throw all of this at the man… "I do not believe that he will abuse whatever power he might have over Loki."

"Good." Relief made her tensed shoulders sag. "Go, prepare what you need. Come back as soon as you are finished, I will then tell you more about Loki's situation – as much as I know, though I fear it is not nearly enough."

…yet, he couldn't be just to anyone if it came to his brother. Never.

* * *

"Jarvis, do you think a glass of scotch would kill me?"

"Depends, Sir. Scotch itself will hardly kill you, at least not a glass of it. Miss Potts might refrain from killing you for breaking yet another promise." Involuntarily, Tony winced at the reminder. "Mister Hawkeye might not be as generous if he loses his bet against Miss Romanov and vice versa."

Tony sighed, wistfully staring at the glass in front of him on the wooden surface of his bar. Three days. He had resisted his lovely poison for nearly three days – only to show Pepper that, _yes_, if he wanted to he could indeed control himself. And to be honest, he had believed he could when the words 'I can _so_ live a week without alcohol.' had left his mouth.

Yet, here he was sitting, after a tiring and rather frustrating meeting with Fury, desperately itching for a drink. Why had he had to decide to be responsible on a week where every villain on this damn planet thought it to be funny to wreak havoc every fucking day?

_Brain to mouth: You're fault. Next time, slow down_.

"Sir," Jarvis' voice broke through his glum thoughts, "Mister Odinson just arrived."

"Was there any thunder?" he mused.

"As a matter of fact, yes. Apparently, your inner struggle to resist the scotch was louder."

"Sassy," he muttered, wondering why the hell his AI had a personality. Most probably, he had been drunk when he created Jarvis. And he did stupid things when drunk. _Really_ stupid. "Where's the big guy?"

Just as he asked, he heard a '_Pling_' behind him, it sounded quite loud in the empty room. "My friend Stark!"

"Right behind you, Sir," Jarvis remarked unnecessarily. "And he brought a guest with him."

Raising an eyebrow, Tony turned around on his barstool, both hands gripping the bar, and was met with Thor's worried face. _Huh_. His greeting earlier had lacked his usual enthusiasm, too, if he thought about it. Thor and not-happy? Not good.

Then, as Thor carefully (a surprise in itself) approached the nearest couch to the elevator, Tony's gaze flickered to the bundle in the god's arms. And he blinked. Again. And again.

From his position he didn't have the best view of the so called 'guest', but he didn't need to. One look at the lean figure, the impossibly dark hair, and a glimpse of that pale face were enough to set off all the alarms in his head.

His grip on the bar tightened, knuckles turning white, though that was the only sign of his alertness. "Hey, don't freak out but there's something in your arms. And it looks like Loki."

Thor placed the figure gently on the couch – Tony noticed only now that the Thunderer also had some luggage with him – stroking dark strands out of a pale forehead, before he turned towards Tony, frowning in confusion. "But my friend, this _is_ Loki?"

_No kidding, bud_. "Okay." He nodded slowly, redirecting his focus back to the Trickster. Something seemed… to be off. "And why exactly is he sleeping on my couch instead of serving his sentence in an Asgardian dungeon or something?"

If he remembered correctly, Thor had said that Loki would rot in a dungeon in Asgard for at least ten years (of course, he hadn't used the exact same words). Although, Tony tended to forget the time when he worked in his lab, he was sure that ten years couldn't have passed… Right?

"Uh, 'tis not easy to explain…" Thor trailed off, hesitance marring his features. Instantly, Tony straightened, curious about what was going on. "You – could you just… look at him?"

_What?_ His other brow rose, too, as he regarded Thor intently. There was something… He looked awfully tired, though it wasn't just fatigue, Tony concluded. A little bit more than a day back in Asgard and the god was in such a condition? And he brought his brother along…

Cautiously, he stood up and walked over to the couch, one hand buried deep in the pocket of his jeans.

Loki… He was deathly pale, his cheeks sunken in, his eyes moved frantically behind the closed lids. The green gown he was wearing was too big for him (or was he simply too thin?), making him seem small, far smaller than he was. Strange red scrapes adorned his throat as if he had scratched the skin violently. His breath was ragged, his chest rose and fell in an erratic rhythm. Sweat shone on his forehead. And was that a trickle of blood running down the corner of his mouth?

Yeah, there was something seriously wrong. But that didn't answer his question. What was the psycho doing back on Earth? More importantly in his tower?

"He's calming down."

Confused, Tony blinked at Thor who was watching his brother closely. "What?"

Thor returned his look, relieved. "When we were on our way, he could hardly breathe." So, he really scratched his throat? "Now, he is calming down."

Okay, fine, he understood it perfectly well. Really. "Not to sound rude, Point Break, but what is your crazy bro doing here?"

"He is _not_ crazy!" Thor snapped angrily. Tony rolled his eyes, though refrained from commenting. _Protective much_? "As you can see, my brother is not well."

"Really? Could've fooled me," he muttered drily. Thor ignored him.

"And I fear I bring bad news."

"That happens when Rudolph's involved." He nearly winced at the dark look that was thrown his way.

_Mouth to brain: Clearly, I can't listen_.

Thor sighed heavily as he sat down on the couch, placing Loki's head in his lap. That could have been a lovely sight if… well, if not for Loki.

Mimicking the god's actions, he grabbed one of the many cushions around and plopped down. If Thor was hesitating to tell him right-out what was going on, then it _had to_ be bad. A weird feeling prickled in his stomach.

When Thor finally decided to address him, his voice was grave. "My brother has to stay in your tower, my friend."

_The hell_? "Woah, woah, woah! Hold your horses, Hercules!" He shook his head vehemently, the sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach intensifying. "He can't stay here! He's the villain, remember? He should be in prison, not in this heaven." For emphasis, he spread his arms. "Besides, Fury will have a word to say to this, don't ya think?"

"I am well aware that you are not pleased," Thor admitted, his fingers massaging Loki's temple. How was that guy able to touch anyone that gently? "But… my brother has to stay here. He'll – he'll _die_, otherwise."

Tony's mouth opened without a sound leaving, he wasn't sure whether he had heard right or not. Hercules' expression was crystal clear; he had not misheard. "Explain. _Now_."

"Could you-" Thor grimaced as if in pain. "Could you touch him?"

"Touch him?" Tony repeated slowly, disbelieving.

_If he ever got a teeth pulled, he'd look like that_. "Yes. Just- just his forehead?"

Everything inside of him screamed for him to refuse, to keep a safe distance to Loki. Yet, his curiosity got the better of him, as always, and he found himself crouched in front of the brothers, his hand reaching for and resting on Loki's sweaty forehead. _Yuck_.

The reaction was instant: Loki's chest heaved, his back even arched, slightly lifting from the couch, his lips parted even farther. Then, his breathing slowed down, his eyes didn't move behind his lids and a nearly delightful sigh fell from his lips. No, he was_ purring_!

Immediately, Tony recoiled and jumped to his feet. "What the fuck?!" That didn't happen when Thor was touching him!

"Mother said it might help," said god muttered.

"_What_ might help? And what with?" he pressed, irritated.

Hesitatingly, Thor locked gazes with him – and he suppressed the urge to step back at the desperation lingering in the other's features. "Loki is Jotun by blood, not Asgardian." _Yeah, there was something about adoption, wasn't there_? "And Jötunn… When mother searched for the illness that befell my brother, she found out that a Jotun is able to form a special bond to someone else. If those who are connected by this bond are apart for too long, the Jotun suffers great pain – so much that his body starts to destroy itself."

_A bond_? Tony furrowed his brows in thought. He didn't know what a Jotun was, but he understood what Thor was trying to say. So, Loki being a Jotun fell ill due to being apart from his bonded one and was near death? Seriously, that was so fucked up. But apparently, he felt better when…

His eyes widened in horror. _No fucking way_! "Are you trying- are you telling me- _me_?"

For a second, a guilty shadow flitted over Thor's face. It was answer enough.

"How the hell did _that_ happen?" If that was one of Loki's schemes… As if the guy hadn't played enough with their lives.

"We are not sure. Mother said that it just… _happens_. The Jotun is more affected by this bond, and even he does not always outright realize when such a bond is created." He paused for a moment, then, "Loki cannot survive if he stays too far away from you."

Well, shit. Tony ran his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes. What did Thor expect him to say to this? To let his wayward brother live in his tower and forget what had happened in the past? That was impossible! The guy had tried to conquer their planet, he had caused so much destruction and many deaths - he remembered Phil, his muscles stiffening further. And how would he explain this to S.H.I.E.L.D? Fuck that, what was he going to tell Pepper?

Suddenly very exhausted, he slid to the floor, one leg stretched out in front of him and an arm draped over the other's knee, and just stared at the brothers.

In other words, Loki was practically chained to him. This bond was like a lifeline that, sadly, was connected to him, and if the Trickster happened to stay too far away from him for a long time, said lifeline would snap. _Fuck_, how could anyone have developed such a curse? Life had to be terrible for these aliens.

"And why do these Jotun-guys and chicks do something as stupid?"

Grimacing, Thor averted his gaze and looked down at Rudolph's relaxed face. What a contrast to the pained mask from earlier… "It is- uh, naught they can control. They bond to the one _made_ for them by instinct when they first meet them. They find their _true_ mate this way."

Tony felt a heavy weight on his chest. Mate? Like, partner? Boyfriend? Soul mate? Though, the latter sounded pretty cheesy and made no sense whatsoever, because Loki had no soul and he, well, one could argue about that. Was this not something that happened only in fairy tales?

_Like magic_? Psh, he hated his inner voice.

But still, they hated each other! They were enemies! And Loki had never shown any sign of being bonded to him!

"But he threw me out of a window!" _Brain to mouth: You're hopeless. That's the first thing leaving you?_ "I mean…" He cleared his throat. "You don't throw your 'mate' out of windows or is it some strange custom I'm not aware of?" Yeah, probably not what he should be freaking out about, but then again, Tony Stark _never_ freaked out. No matter how strong the urge to do so was bubbling beneath his calm interior.

"He didn't know," Thor said (or did he just snap?). "Loki has not studied the history and culture of Jotnar, thus he was not able to recognize his situation. But believe me, my friend, he will not harm you again – for it will do him greater harm than you, I fear."

So, no trips through windows anymore. Good to know. But still, that meant he was stuck with the lunatic! "I don't like this. Look, Hercules, I know he's your brother and blablabla, but we _don't_ like each other. Sure you're not wrong? Maybe I'm not his- ya know?"

"Did your touch not help him?" Thor shot back.

_Point taken_. And he didn't graze that question with an answer. "How did you even know it was me?"

"He-" Was it just him or seemed Thor embarrassed? No, it was more like uncomfortable. "He mumbled your name while feverish."

Okay, should he be disturbed by this or feel proud of himself to have left such a deep impression on the god? He had no idea.

"Anthony," Huh, not quite _Tony_ but better than _Friend Stark_. "I don't ask you to forgive and forget. Loki has to remain here, I cannot… When I first saw him like this I- I thought he was dead." Thor shuddered as if the mere memory of that moment caused him physical pain. "I need you help for my brother. _Please_."

That _tone_. Full of burning pain and desperation. Totally not fair, especially not in combination with those bright blue eyes. _And did he just plead?_ "I need a drink like yesterday."

In a swift motion, he stood up and talked over to his bar, grabbing the glass from earlier with one hand while the other snatched the scotch.

"Sir, I highly recommend that you don't do this."

Tony scoffed as he watched the liquid pour into his glass. "Screw any bets and responsibilities. _This_ is an exception."

"Well, I do see your point, Sir. But I'll have to report to Miss Potts, nonetheless."

"Miss Potts didn't create you, baby."

"She'll find out, one way or another."

"Sure she will," he muttered drily. But Pepper would understand, wouldn't she? Nah, probably not, but _he_ would go nuts if he didn't have that fucking drink right now. With that thought in mind, he downed it in one go, relishing the familiar sensation of the scotch flowing down his throat. And refilled immediately, of course.

"You wanna have one?" he asked Thor out of politeness.

He shook his head, not looking at Tony. "No, thank you."

Tony leaned back a bit, sipping at his drink. "Can you guarantee that he won't go ballistic on us? Or hurt anyone?"

Thor's hand stilled in Loki's hair (why was it that long? Rapunzel much?), and his shoulders stiffened. Not a good sign. "I cannot promise you much, I fear. He may try, but as I mentioned he will only harm himself if he hurts you. And then he has these." He reached forward and held one of Loki's wrists up, showing him the metal band adorning it.

"No magic," Tony concluded. Apparently, Thor had prepared for everything. "But I don't live alone here, Point Break. Even if I agree to let Rudolph stay, the others won't be too thrilled." To put it mildly. How long could Clint resist until he tried to use the god as a dartboard for his arrows? Now, _that_ would be worth a real bet.

"I am aware that the others will be displeased," Thor said. "And I will talk to them and explain the situation. But your consent is of more importance than theirs."

_Figures, all the hard decisions on poor me_.

To be honest, he was tempted to say no and get that crazy fucker out of his tower. No matter his condition, this was _Loki_, a villain, a god with huge brotherly jealousy-problems and murderer. He wouldn't ever trust him, and keeping him constantly close to himself? Not a good idea, especially since Loki's presence might remind him of things he would rather forget (he still somewhat hated windows).

_But Thor's your friend_. And said friend would be crushed if Tony didn't help his deranged brother. Gods, he had known that all this caring-for-your-friends-shit would land him in deep trouble, someday. Why did he have to go soft? That was so not cool.

_Besides, psycho or not, could you have his death on your conscience_? Did it make him a heartless bastard if he had to think about this, first? _Urgh, my head_.

In the end, he sighed in defeat. "Jarvis, do I have any spare rooms on my floor?"

He could see Thor's face lighting up and no, that didn't lessen the uneasy rumbling in his stomach.

"Of course, Sir," his AI replied. "I'd suggest the one opposite yours."

"You heard the guy," he sighed.

Thor nodded and stood up, carefully taking Loki into his arms, though he let his luggage on the floor. Indicating his head towards it, he said, "These are few books in which this bond is mentioned. It is not much but all we have."

"Okay." He raised an eyebrow quizzically. "You do realize that as amazing as I might be, I can't read Asgardian hieroglyphs, yeah?"

"Mother sent them." And that explained everything, apparently.

When Thor reached the elevator, Tony stopped him with a quiet "Thor.", eyes hard and determined. "I'm with Pepper. I'm happy."

There was a myriad of emotions raging in Thor, he noticed (that guy was like an open book). Finally, he smiled understandingly, though with a bitter edge to it. "I don't expect anything, just the safety of my brother."

Tony emptied his glass as soon as the big guy vanished, and grabbed the bottle to refill again. He needed a lot more right now.

"I would suggest that you refrain from drinking more, Sir."

Could Jarvis read his thoughts? Cocky bastard. "Jarvis, have you the slightest idea about what I just did?"

"You agreed to let one of your greatest enemies stay in your tower without consulting any of the other Avengers. Furthermore, said enemy is bonded to you which, as it seems, will complicate the matter even more."

"And you want me to stop drinking? Seriously?"

"I doubt you will listen to me, anyway."

"You bet I won't."

_Fucking aliens. Fucking magic. Fucking bonds. Fucking Loki_.


End file.
